


Afterlife

by cherry_slushy



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts, Light Angst, Platonic Relationships, Swearing, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 15:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_slushy/pseuds/cherry_slushy
Summary: Veronica experiences her first Halloween without Heather Chandler. To comfort herself, she and her best friend (a bottle of vodka) take a chance on the Ouija Board...





	Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [cherry_slushy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_slushy/pseuds/cherry_slushy) in the [Heathers_Fanfic_Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Heathers_Fanfic_Challenge) collection. 



> Thanks to scouts_mockingbird for hosting the Heathers Fall Fanfic Challenge! This is my entry. It's just a short one-shot of what Veronica is experiencing after the events of Heathers. (Of course, there is the supernatural element.) Please read the tags for any sort of topics you may not feel comfortable reading about. You've been warned!
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Veronica experiences her first Halloween without Heather Chandler. To comfort herself, she and her best friend (a bottle of vodka) take a chance on the Ouija Board....

Heather always chose out costumes for the girls. At the time, it agitated Veronica to no end. Who was Heather to decide what she could and could not wear?

This year, Veronica wanted nothing more than to have her shoulder-padded, scrunchie-wearing best friend force a pair of cat ears on her and drag her to some stupid party at Remington University. She smiled as she let the scenario unfold in her head. A drunken encounter with a couple of college guys- they flirt, but move on before anything goes too far- as they stumble to the nearest Snappy Snack Shack for some Corn Nuts (BQ) and a couple of Cokes (Diet). Heather makes some rude comment, but Veronica brushes it off. She knew that she doesn’t have any other choice in the matter, an argument with Heather Chandler meant exile from school.

She understood that now. Even post-mortem, Heather Chandler had ruined Veronica Sawyer’s life.

“Veronica, sweetheart!”

The sound of her name sounded distant as she tried to snap out of her drunken reverie, struggling to make sense of where she was. For a second, she was on the floor of Heather’s room, broken glass surrounding her. Then, the woods behind the school, her naked chest bleeding from a small bullet hole.

A busy road by the school. A truck blaring its horn to warn her to get out of the way.

The school steps.

Boom.

“Veronica? Veronica!”

She threw up into the trashcan next to her, narrowly missing her mother’s feet. Veronica heard sounds of disbelief and worry as her vision cleared and she slumped back down on her bed.

She was in her bedroom. She wasn’t dying, yet.

“Hey, Mom. I was just taking a nap,” Veronica managed to croak out as she shut her eyes again. She had hidden her vodka bottle, but she knew her breath reeked of alcohol anyway.

Veronica couldn’t see it, but her mother’s lips were pursed with worry. Her brow furrowed as she took a deep breath before attempting to speak to her daughter once more.

“Your father and I are going out for dinner, dear. There’s some leftover spaghetti in the fridge for you.”

Mrs. Sawyer only received a grumble in reply. She opened her mouth to speak, to scold her child for stealing the neighbor’s vodka (which she knew was hidden under Veronica’s bed), to demand a  _ real _ affirmation (“yes, Mom. Thank you so much!”), to scream how she doesn’t even recognize the empty shell of the person laying in front of her as her daughter anymore.

Instead, she managed: “You can set up the Halloween decorations while we’re gone. They’re at the bottom of the stairs.”

Veronica sighed.

Mrs. Sawyer left the room.

She waited for the sound of the Volkswagen rolling out of the driveway before she relaxed again. When she opened her eyes again, she realized to her dismay that an hour had passed.  _ Damn, time flies. _

She didn’t feel hungry. Instead, she stumbled slightly to her door that faced the stairwell, spotting a cardboard box labeled “HALLOWEEN” visible just where Mrs. Sawyer had said it would be.

Gripping the banister, Veronica took each step at an extremely cautious pace. She focused on the feet moving from each stair, feeling as though she was not in her own body.

After what felt simultaneously like years and seconds, she reached the box. A once-manicured-now-battered hand unfolded the weather flaps, and Veronica let out a short laugh at the contents.

On top was a Ouija board; the one Heather gave her, to be exact. Not dead Heather, alive Heather. Heather McNamara. Three years ago, she told Veronica that she had contacted a ghost through the board and didn’t want it in her house anymore, so Veronica could keep it. She picked it up, examining the cheaply laminate surface. She remembered horror film nights with her friends, how exhilarating and amusing watching a slasher make Heather jump out of her skin before she ran to the bathroom to throw up whatever popcorn she had consumed previously. Not dead Heather  _ or _ Heather McNamara. Heather Duke.

Veronica frowned at the unhappy turn the memory took. At least Heather kept her lunch most days now.

“Like I have a better way to spend my night,” Veronica muttered as she wiped the thin film of dust that had formed on the board with her sleeve. She took the stairs up more quickly, narrowly catching the final stair before reaching the top. Maybe the part of drinking that was supposed to make you feel happy and carefree had kicked in, or maybe (and more likely) she was delirious.

Upon entering her room, Veronica reached under her bed for her bottle before settling by her nightstand. She took a swig- Dixie cups proved to be an inconvenience for her months ago- and set the planchette on the board.

Veronica considered who she should try to contact. Grandma, perhaps?

The planchette moved. Veronica yelped and recoiled. Shaken, she peeked through the planchette to see what it resided over.

“‘No’,” she read to herself, before tentatively placing her fingertips back on the guide.

“Who’s there?” Veronica spoke more clearly this time, feeling eerily sober all of the sudden.

The planchette began to move again. Veronica inhaled sharply as she mouthed the letters appearing through the hole of the guide.

B-I-T-C-H

Veronica scoffed, the fear from earlier had dissipated. Had it not been for the fact that she was alone, she would have accused someone of pushing the plate across the board themselves.

But she was alone, and she was  _ mostly _ sure she wasn’t pushing it.

“That’s not a fucking answer.”

YES

“No,” Veronica snapped at the board. She was silent for a moment before continuing, “do I know you?”

The planchette started to move, before quickly settling back to its previous position.

YES

“How do I know you?”

B-E-S-T-F-R-I-E-N-D

Veronica felt icy cold. This was so  _ fucked up _ . Was she dreaming? Could she really…?

“Heather?” Veronica croaked. Her lungs felt constricted.

YES

It was. It was really her. It had to be. Her best friend, back from the dead to tell Veronica just how worthless her existence meant to the rest of the world.

Well, she couldn’t really back from the dead, could she?

“God, Veronica. You’re such a pillowcase, you know that? I’m right here.”

Veronica’s head shot up to her desk, speechless.

The figure stood with its back to her, but she knew who it was. The curly, perfect blond hair was styled in an up-do. There was a pink corsage upon her wrist that matched the silky dress hugging the figure. It was a dress reminiscent of a prom from the 70s.

“Earth to Veronica! You’re gawking like a geek.”

Heather Chandler turned around then, and Veronica covered her mouth in a poor attempt to hide the scream that escaped her lips.

Heather was almost entirely translucent, save for what the dress covered. Her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, had it not been for the reflection from Veronica’s bedside lamp she wouldn’t have been able to see Heather’s pale blue eyes.

Though the brightest blue glowed from Heather’s throat with lips to match, a permanent reminder of what happened to her in her last minutes of life.

“Heather, I-”

“Save it for Saint Peter. I’ve been trying to contact you for  _ ages _ and you’re not going to waste my time blabbering on about how  _ terrible _ it was that you killed me and how  _ sorry _ you feel all the time since I’ve been gone,” Heather’s tone was mocking as she moved by Veronica, flopping onto her bed. The frame shook as she did so, disturbing Veronica even more to realize that Heather was able to interact with material things. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Heather’s lip then; she enjoyed seeing Veronica back at her right hand again.

“I came to tell you to get over yourself, Veronica. All you’re doing is depressing everyone around you with your teen angst bullshit.”

Veronica was momentarily speechless. Sure, she had been wishing for Heather’s snarky comments earlier but now that she was  _ here _ …

Color rushed to Veronica’s face as her brow furrowed, her mouth turned down. She didn’t have to deal with Heather’s shit, not after all she had been through.

“What’s your damage? Is that really all you came to do, boss me around again?”

Heather laughed and Veronica shuddered at the sound. It wasn’t the girlish laugh she remembered, rather it sounded more like a coarse choking sound. Had it not been for the smile upon Heather’s face, Veronica would have assumed she was about to vomit.

“Pretty much. Besides, the afterlife is getting pretty boring. There’s only so many times I can enjoy my junior prom.”

“Prom…?” Veronica questioned. The conversation had become somehow mundane, as if they were both teenagers; not a ghost and a hollow being.

“Yes, Veronica, keep up,” Heather waved her hand aside, “honestly, it’s no different than Westerburg. I’ve been crowned prom queen like ten times since I went through that coffee table and everyone always cheers when we dance together after I win.”

“We?” Veronica questioned.

“My date and myself, obviously. Did you really think that I, Heather Chandler, would go to prom alone?” Heather scoffed at the idea.

“So, you have a date? In Heaven?” Veronica shook her head in disbelief, “God, only you could get back into the dating scene so quickly after  _ fucking dying. _ ”

“It’s not exactly Heaven, Veronica. It’s like that stupid Tim Burton movie everyone talks about.  _ Beetlejuice _ , or whatever,” Heather glared at Veronica’s snide comment, “and I  _ so  _ don’t like my date like that! We just… have a mutual interest.”

Veronica snorted.  _ Mutual interest _ , “is your date a mall?”

“No! I have more depth than that  _ now _ , you know!”

“Well then, who is it?”

The sound of the Volkswagen pulling into the driveway stopped Heather from answering. In an instant, the bed was empty and Veronica was alone.

Veronica jumped up, stumbling slightly as she looked around the room. Heather was nowhere to be seen.  _ Could I have imagined her? _ Veronica thought to herself. She felt a somber panging in her chest at the thought.

She slumped down on the bed, staring at the front of her desk where Heather had appeared. God, maybe she was going crazy, and this was one hell of a coping mechanism.

“Veronica?” Mrs. Sawyer entered the room without knocking, “the spaghetti is untouched! Didn’t I tell you to eat?”

“Yes, Mom, you did. Sorry. I got distracted.”

Mrs. Sawyer paused, taken aback by the very verbal reply. Her attention turned to the Ouija board that sat on the floor next to a half-full bottle of vodka. She frowned and grabbed the items from the floor.

“I’m confiscating the vodka,” Mrs. Sawyer scolded as she turned to leave. She glanced at the board in her hands and stopped short.

“Hon? Why are some of the letters scratched out?”

“Hm?” Veronica rushed to her mother's side to get a better look at the board.

“See? Look here,” Mrs. Sawyer pointed out the faint outline of two of the letters. Veronica traced them lightly, and smiled.

“Maybe a ghost did it. It is a Ouija board, Mom,” Veronica replied with a small grin. 

Her mother narrowed her eyes, what on Earth had brought her daughter back to life? 

“Or maybe it’s just old?” The daughter replied as she read her mother’s apprehensive expression.

“Maybe it’s just old,” Mrs. Sawyer repeated, skeptical. She made her way to the door. Veronica took in a deep breath.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Hon?”

“Would you mind getting a plate out for me? I’m gonna be down in a minute to grab some grub.”

Mrs. Sawyer blinked, surprised. After a moment, she smiled faintly before nodding and going downstairs.

Veronica smiled back. In fact, she kept smiling even after her mother left. Glancing about her room, Veronica let out a small laugh.

“Nice one, Heather. Cut out the J and the D on the board so no other ghost can use them, huh?”

Veronica didn’t receive a reply. She shrugged.

“Whatever. Tell him I said ‘greetings and salutations’, why don’t you?”

Veronica walked out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it! I hope it was a satisfying enough ending and a good spooky sort of story for today. Happy Halloween!


End file.
